Designer fashion emblems are as coveted as they were in the shamelessly ostentatious '80s. Yet one thing more chic than having a Chanel logo welded to your handbag is having it embossed on one of Daniele Buetti's photographs.

Buetti is a Swiss artist who conceptually dissects the desire factory of contemporary consumer obsession. He has turned his artistic spotlight onto the designer posse of elite fashion in his show at Conny Dietzschold Gallery.

The artist scouts for alluring found images of models and celebrities, then physically punctures the back of these photographs.

This creates a three-dimensional scar effect on the front of the image, like an alien implant embedded beneath the subject's flawless flesh.

However, the unnerving allure of Buetti's work derives from his habit of then rephotographing the altered images to make them two-dimensional again - lending the scarification an illusion of reality.

These blemishes take the shape of superpower fashion labels such as Cartier and Fendi, and could be seen as a kind of ritualised flesh initiation into the cult of consumerism. This may sound like science fiction, but the reality is the Nike "swoosh" symbol remains a popular tattoo choice in the US.

Other works in the show consist of blown-up found images of supermodels lying around in skimpy gear, looking forlorn and crying glamorous tears.

These photographs have been perforated with hundreds of tiny holes and then back-lit with light boxes that emit tinted glows of blue and pink.

The illuminated images immediately scream "glamour puss", and yet the violated surfaces are also loaded with a profoundly unsettling impact. From afar, the perforations look like fairy lights, but up close one can see the crude edges to the punctures, neatly ripped like gunshot wounds.

This charges the conventional beauty of the scenes with a certain violence, like the scarring of the models' flesh in Buetti's other series.

The viewer is reminded of both religious tableaux and "heroin chic" death scenes.

In Blue Floor, a reclining model seems shrouded in a protective blanket of pin-pointed light; in Blue Shot, it is as though the light beads have drained from the model's facial sockets, leaving her empty and used.

The potency of Buetti's art as social commentary is that it doesn't hold the viewer at a critical distance from consumerism. Instead, it implicates you in its own dangerous dynamics of seduction and repulsion.